Getting Brighter All the Time
by tehPrincess
Summary: Pre-novel, Pairing: Sally/the Comedian. A love affair following that terrible night in the trophy room. Rated M for sexual content, violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Getting Brighter All the Time **- Sally Jupiter (Silk Spectre I)/Edward Blake (The Comedian), circa 1946

_Disclaimer: All characters, etc. from the novel WATCHMEN belong to Alan Moore and DC._

* * *

Sally smiled generically as a gentleman with blond hair swept her across the ballroom floor. Another benefit dinner. Another chance to be seen.

Being busy and tired was good. Left so little time to think.

The room was brilliantly lit, the crystal chandeliers overhead cast the light of hundreds of bulbs down upon her, and the drone of the crowd, so many voices at once, was beginning to make her head ache. It was hot and stuffy, and the open windows and balcony doors promised a cool rainy evening waiting to award all who escaped the pomp and circumstance of tonight's gala with an abundance of fresh air.

She'd never been much for masks, so going out was just like going out in costume; she was recognized wherever she went. Normally, she loved the attention, but tonight the stares and pickup lines were beginning to wear thin.

"Excuse me," she murmured politely to her dance partner, breaking away. She couldn't remember his name.

She was ready to leave. Glancing widely around the room, she looked for her agent, Larry, expecting to see him huddled in conversation with businessmen and bankers, negotiating her next gig, or just trying to make friends to pave the way for future deals. She didn't see him, and irritated enough to contemplate leaving without him, she started to push her way to the door.

She'd only made it a few feet through the throng when the sound of a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Well, hello there, doll. Imagine running into you here."

She'd know that voice anywhere. A deep, sexy voice, with the power to excite and scare her all at once.

Looking to her right, she saw him, surrounded by powerful looking friends and beautiful women.

"Hello, Eddie." She kept her voice calm and cool.

Shrugging a pretty blond off his arm, he left the group, approaching her with purposeful steps.

It had been about two years since the Comedian had been forced to leave the Minutemen, and Sally hadn't seen him since. She'd heard recently that he was stateside again. His government work took him all over the place, and seeing him here, now, was a strange coincidence.

He seemed even bigger than she remembered. Probably his new armor. She'd heard about the stabbing a while back, and how it had prompted him to discard his old yellow boiler suit for something stronger. It suited him, somehow, the black leather. It seemed less silly, more grown up, and serious.

Aside from the color, his eye mask was the same as it'd always been; small, and stringless. Masks with strings were dangerous, they could slip down and impede your vision during a fight, so he, along with Nite Owl, had learned to use an adhesive to attach their masks directly to their faces. His mask ringed his dark eyes with black, making him appear more of a villain than a hero.

Stopping before her, he said loud enough for anyone around them to hear, "Dance with me."

Before she could even respond, she was in his arms, and he was leading her deeper into the crowd in a slow dance. His warm breath fanned her ear as he whipered against it, "Careful how loud you go saying my name. I'm in disguise, remember?"

Too shocked to speak for a moment, Sally allowed him to pull her along. One of his gloved hands held hers, the bare fingers sticking out to brush bare skin, while the other pressed into the small of her back, holding her against him.

He smiled down at her, "Where's Schexnayder? In the can?" He laughed, just like he always did. Everything was such a big joke to him.

Snapping out of her stupor, Sally tried to jerk back, out of his arms. "I don't know, but I'm leaving."

He held her fast. There was no escape unless she wanted to make a scene in front of all these people.

"Oh? What's wrong?" he asked her with a grin, his white teeth so straight and perfect. It really was a crime, how handsome he was. Because deep down, despite any of the good he'd accomplished in his line of work, he was really a cold hearted bastard.

"Like you don't know," she answered angrily.

He pulled back at the tremble in her voice and she saw the confusion in his eyes, the smile falling from his lips as he saw her distress. "Sal, you're still mad at me?"

"Of course I am, you idiot!" she whispered angrily. She resented his surprise, resented his ability to just forget that he'd bloodied her face and bruised her ribs, and most of all, she resented his hands on her.

She felt a tear begin to slide down her cheek, whether of pain or anger, then startled as Blake's thumb came up to brush against her, wiping it away. He'd dropped her hand to help before she'd had the chance to scrub it off herself.

"Christ," he said, pulling her head into the crook of his shoulder again. Urgently, against her ear, he said, "Let's get out of here. We can talk..."

"Sally," Larry's irritated voice cut in. This time, when she pulled against him, Blake released her, and backing away, she saw Larry impatiently tapping a foot as he waited, holding their coats. "I think it's time for us to leave."

Looking back up at Blake, she whispered "Goodbye, Eddie." She gave the hand he still held in his a tug and he dropped it, reluctantly.

He looked almost sad as they left him there, standing alone in a room full of people. Sally waited for the relief to come. Larry had put an end to a strange reunion, stopped the confrontation before it could start. But all she could feel was regret.

* * *

Hours later, Sally leaned up against the brass railing that surrounded a chipped, black-topped bar. She didn't really know what she was doing, or why she was there. The place was a dive, inhabited by men and women that were even more pathetic than she was.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking of Eddie, and the way he'd looked when she'd left the gala tonight. Instead of undressing when she'd returned to her apartment, she'd sat at her dressing table, still wearing her snazzy yellow dress, and stared back at her reflection for countless minutes, lost in her emotions and thoughts of the past.

Impulsively, she'd grabbed her coat and snuck quietly out of her apartment, shutting the door with an imperceptible click. Creeping past Larry's door, which was right across from her own, she took the elevator to the lobby, then had the doorman hail a cab. Without thinking too much about what she was doing, she'd stopped the driver when she saw the bar she'd been looking for outside the dark, rain-spattered window.

It was probably time for her to go back home, where she belonged. No doubt he was out with that blond, or on a plane halfway across the world by now. Just because rumor said he used to frequent this place, didn't mean that she was going to find him here now. Flicking the ash from her cigarette, she gripped the slim plastic holder in one had, and reached for her scotch with the other, her red painted nails shining in the dull light of the smokey room. Tossing it back, she slammed the empty glass down on the bar. She gave Harry, the bartender, a sweet smile as he looked up from the frothy glass he was filling up with whatever was on tap tonight. He was a large man, with a well trimmed beard and a gap in his front teeth, and he'd been keeping an eye out for her, knowing that she was here alone. Reaching for the slippery black fabric of her raincoat, she gave a sigh of defeat as she prepared to leave.

Before she left her stool, she felt compelled to look back, over her right shoulder. And as she did, she saw him step slowly out of the shadows, almost as if he'd been there for a while, watching her, just like he used to.

"Hello, doll. You looking for me?" She watched him approach with a mixture of excitement and nerves. He was here. He'd come.

He stopped just behind her, his warm breath brushing her bare shoulders as he leaned close. Facing forward again, she let her eyes slide closed, enjoying his nearness. Then, clutching her jacket to her chest, she stood up, forcing him to take a step back. She felt her shoulders tremble from the shudder that ran down her spine as she turned to face him directly. Feet on the ground, she realized that the stool had actually given her a few more inches in hight. Standing before him now, he seemed to tower over her.

"You look pretty as a picture." He smelled of cigars and the cologne that she'd never smelled anywhere else. Reaching out with his left hand, he trailed his fingers down the bare skin of her right arm, raising goose flesh in his wake.

"You look good, too, Eddie. I've seen you in the news reels. At Iwo Jima. That whole flag thing."

"Yeah," he said, his dark brown eyes meeting her blue ones. "So, you're still mad about that night." Sally wanted to slap his face for ruining everything by bringing that up. Thinking about what had taken place in the trophy room still made her feel angry and helpless. But then he continued, "Heh. I went there to make friends, and ended up screwing everything up. Just like I always do."

He'd been so cocky at the time, and she'd hated how easy women had been for him. So young, and he'd already been able to take his pick, new girls always coming and going, drifting through his life like dead leaves. She hadn't wanted to be just another statistic. Didn't want to be used and discarded.

They'd had a good thing going, all the flirting and innuendos whenever the group got together for meetings and parties. But then things had gone terribly wrong. After that night, he'd left the group and she'd never seen him again. Things had indeed been changed for ever between them, but not in the way she'd hoped to prevent by telling him "no". The time he spent away, all of the days spent without seeing him, it was all far worse with the absence of memories to tide her over, worse than any awkward interaction and a lack of interest that she'd hoped to never feel from him.

She could admit to herself that it was nice to hear that he cared. Eddie was... complicated. Her anger at him had allowed her to lose sight of that. The things he did sometimes did not necessarily reflect his feelings, or the man he was deep inside. And she'd always felt like she'd provoked him that night. She'd loved flirting back with him, enjoyed his attention, letting him think that the door was open for a bit more than the friendship she shared with all the other guys. And she'd scratched his face, knowing it was fighting dirty, but feeling safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't retaliate. Men couldn't hit women back, even when they deserved it. She was no shrinking violet. She'd trained, she knew how to fight, could have kicked or punched him. But instead, knowing the violent man he was, she'd inflamed his anger. Perhaps without even knowing that deep down, she'd just wanted to see what he'd do, how he'd react.

"Lady, is this guy bothering you?" Harry asked loudly from behind the bar. He set a baseball bat down in front of them as he spoke. As strong as Harry looked, Sally knew that Eddie could beat him to death inside of five minutes if he or his bat tried anything.

"No. Thank you," she answered quickly. Heart pounding, she looked back up at Blake and asked, "Do you want to go somewhere and talk? We could go get a cup of coffee..."

"I have a place here," he cut her off, still looking over her shoulder at Harry through narrowed eyes. Glancing down at her, he pulled the cigarette from her hand and flung it toward the ashtray on the bar, missing Harry's hand by inches. Pulling her raincoat from her other arm, he helped her put it on.

She knew what was going to happen if she went home with him. And she didn't care. It was unexplainable, really, her desire to go off alone with a man she should fear and hate. But even if she never had anything but tonight with him, she'd take what she could get, and use the memories to help get her through all the lonely days to come.

* * *

His "place" turned out to be a penthouse apartment at a nearby high-rise. It was the typical space of a bachelor. No plants, all browns, blacks, and greys, a leather sofa, a large television, and a stereo with stacks of gramophone records opposite a wall of windows overlooking the city.

Blake took her coat and dropped it, along with his keys, on the soft carpeted floor. He slowly pulled off his fingerless gloves as they walked, dropping them carelessly as well, followed by his metal shoulder armor, which hit the ground with a loud "clank".

Sally was shocked to see a large pinup poster of herself displayed prominently above a fully stocked liquor cabinet. She gazed up into her own teasing eyes, feeling touched and giddy to see it hung up here, in his home."Oh, Eddie," she said breathlessly as she stopped walking to look up at it, while he stepped up beside her. It was one of her more provocative pictures; in it she was sprawled out suggestively in her yellow costume with the short, short skirt, silk stockings, and knee high boots. She was pulling off her single black glove, slowly, like a strip tease.

It was flattering whenever anybody took notice of her modeling work, but for some reason, this meant so much more to her than it usually did. He cared, if only just a little. Perhaps he thought about her each time he saw this.

She turned to face him, needing to say something, anything, but he grabbed her before she got the chance and pulled her up against him. His mouth came down, roughly covering hers, and she groaned into him. She had one last fleeting thought, that perhaps her brightly colored lipstick was smearing across their faces, before all her thoughts were gone, swallowed up by him and his wonderful mouth.

His kiss was hot and demanding, his taste addictive and strong. He didn't use his arms to hold her, instead, he pushed his big body into hers, the hard expanse of his armor-clad chest pinning her back, causing glasses to rattle as she bumped into the liquor cabinet. His hands where everywhere, sliding all over her, pulling at her carefully styled hair, feeling the softest parts of her body through the thin satin of her dress. They brushed up against her breasts, her ass, then down to her thighs before he stooped down before her, his lips still caressing hers. She realized that he was gathering up the long skirt of her dress, bringing it all up until he'd exposed her black silk panties above the edges of her stockings. She reached down, taking the yellow fabric from his hands, and held it for him with her right arm.

With a tug and a ripping sound, her underwear come off, and releasing her lips, he dropped down to his knees before her. Her mouth freed, Sally took a deep, gasping breath, then held it as his tongue came out, licking her in long firm strokes.

She squirmed against him, her left hand fisting inside his dark hair, feeling his hot breath, hearing the hungry noises he made as he slid one hand around and squeezed the bare skin of her ass with hard fingers. It took only seconds, only a few deep licks before she broke apart.

He pulled back, setting one booted foot on the floor and using it to help him stand back up. She vaguely registered that he still wore his mask as his hands found the zipper on the side of her dress. He yanked it down, pulling off the dress, along with her bustier. Her clothing dealt with, his eyes slid down her body hungrily as he pulled off his chest plate and a black sleeveless undershirt. Skin to skin now, he crushed her breasts flat with his muscled chest. Kissing her, he lifted her up until she was nearly sitting on the edge of the liquor cabinet. Fumbling with his belt, he freed himself, and pushed into her in one quick stroke. She cried out at the pleasure of his penetration, and he groaned, holding still for the briefest of moments.

He started to move, strongly, over her, inside her, surrounding her with himself. Grunting and groaning, he pulled nearly all the way out at the end of each thrust, taking her in hard, fast jabs. The glasses behind her rattled uncontrollably as he moved, biting at her neck, sucking the tender skin of her throat into his mouth. He was probably trying to leave marks, but Sally didn't care, she wanted him to mark her, to leave some trace of himself behind.

He felt wonderful, better than she'd dreamed he would. He was strong, violent, and selfish. She looked into his face and caught him gazing down at her from under heavy lids. As their eyes met and held, she felt her body begin to tense, muscles twitching, her body squeezing him as they found their release.

Taking deep breaths, he clutched her to him, rubbing his rough stubbled cheek against hers. "Jesus," he said between gasps.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice coming out as a croak.

Gently, he used his palm to cup the side of her face, and gave her a soft kiss. She needed to go. But she didn't want to.

After he scooped her up and carried her to his room, the two spent the night between tangled bedsheets. The next morning, he helped her clean up and dress. He got her a cab, and as she headed home to her empty apartment, Sally couldn't stop thinking about the incredible night that had just past. She hadn't expected any sweet words. She only hoped that she'd get to see him again.

* * *

_A/N: I suppose I'm changing the "one time" into an entire love affair. Because I want to. While part of me thinks that Hollis Mason and Sally pining away for each other is a sweeter idea, who the hell wants sweet? Like Jon says, she loved a man that she had every reason to hate. I just find the 2 of them to be a fascinating couple. Especially after reading chapter 9 of the novel: "First off, he was **there**, right? Plus he was gentle. You know what gentleness means in a guy like that? Even a glimmer of it?"  
__More to come.  
Writing this was a challenge for me. It's a tremulous balance between having Eddie appear too callous, and having him too tender, and thus, too out of character. Here's hoping that I found a good middle ground.  
__I'll admit that I take pieces of what I like selectively, from both the book and the film. I imagine Sally and Eddie to look a lot like they do in the film. But the book says the Eddie is only 17, and Sally 19 when the attempted rape occurs, and I've tried to keep it some-what close to that here. And the dates conflict, the book says Sally quits the Minutemen to marry Laurence in 1947, then she gives birth to Laurie in 1949. I'm gonna stick with the film and say that pregnancy happens first, forcing her into retirement and a loveless marriage. And the title of this is straight out of the book._


	2. Chapter 2

Weeks went by, and nothing. Sally found herself paying closer attention to the newspapers, listening with a sharper ear to scuttlebutt at meetings, and hoping for some small glimpse of the Comedian in newsreels. She told herself that she was being silly. It had been a fling, a one shot deal, and now, whatever fascination she'd held for him had been purged from his system. He'd gotten what he'd wanted from her and moved on.

Laurence had been waiting angrily outside her apartment when she'd returned that morning. He'd looked disapprovingly at her down swept hair and rumpled eveningwear but thankfully, hadn't asked her any questions. If he'd noticed a change in her behavior or how quiet she'd been lately, then he'd decided it was best not to mention it.

Although Sally felt miserable, crime didn't take a break, and there was still plenty of patrols to go on and cases to work through. She was thankful to be kept so busy, and throwing herself into her work, she was able to make a significant number of appearances and collars in the ensuing days.

Socially, Larry still had her attending various functions with Hooded Justice. But if Eddie was a mystery, then HJ was even more so. His indifference was so hard for her to handle that it just made things worse.

She was able to spend some time in close proximity to Nite Owl as they worked together on an illegal weapons shipment. He was charming and attentive, smart, and good in a fight. He was a really nice guy, the kind of guy Sally _should _want to be with, but as fun as he was, he just didn't excite her the way Eddie did. Realizing this made her sad and angry all over again.

Patrolling helped. There was nothing like a good knock-down, drag-out fight, and the sense of well being you felt after you'd taken care of even a small part of the city's problems. Arriving back at her apartment at night when it was all over, she always felt drained, and could fall into a dreamless sleep without too much time to think.

It was on a night such as this when something finally happened.

Exhausted, she'd barely dropped off to sleep when she was suddenly awoken by a persistent knocking on her door. Blinking back the sleep from her eyes, she sat up in her bed, reaching over to pick up the wind-up clock on her bedside table. The dim light cast into the room from outside streetlamps showed the hands on the clock declaring it to be nearly midnight. Sighing exaggeratedly, she replaced the clock and threw off her covers.

Muttering to herself about managers and how she couldn't do her job and look good doing it if she wasn't allowed to get some sleep, she grabbed a black chiffon robe, thrusting her arms into the sleeves and belting it shut over her sheer black nightgown. Barefoot, she padded toward her door, veering to avoid the shadowy shapes of furniture in the dark. Not terribly often, Schexnayder would come over here, pounding on her door at some ungodly hour, excited about some new idea, or he'd return late from a dinner, or a party, or a meeting where he'd met a new contact, or set up some kind of merchandising deal that was far too important to keep until the morning.

Pushing locks of red hair away from her eyes, she reached for the doorknob, ready to obediently endeavor to stay awake for whatever he wanted to say that was so damn important. Swinging the door open wide, Sally's knees almost buckled when she saw Blake waiting on the other side of the door instead.

He knew where she lived. A lot of people did, she guessed, but it was still pretty surprising to find out that he was one of them, and that he was here, now.

Heart pounding, she ignored his slurred, "Hi, Doll," and looked quickly up and down both ends of the hallway before grabbing him by one big forearm and pulling him inside. She shut and bolted the door, then stood on tiptoe to look out her peephole. Schexnayder's door loomed large and misshapen, but it was closed and quiet, and letting her held breath out in relief, she turned to face her unexpected visitor.

He swayed on his feet, which was a shock all on its own, considering his tolerance level. Despite his youth, he'd beat Sally at more than one drinking game while he'd still been part of the Minutemen. His intoxicated state only added to Sally's already considerable alarm at finding him here.

She'd never been alone with him when he was like this, and between what they'd shared the last time they'd been together, and him being so well to live now, she had no idea what to expect.

The room remained unlit, and in the darkened room, Sally could see that his dark hair was sticking up wildly in places, like he'd been raking his fingers through it. A shotgun was strapped to his back, along with his usual assortment of hardware in the holsters at his hips. He was obviously fresh off patrol.

"Couldn't stay away." He was grumbling, his deep timbered voice difficult to understand. His expression was hard to read in the failing light, but she could tell he wasn't smiling, and that was something.

"Eddie..," she started, not sure what to say. She wanted to ask him where he'd been, why he'd drank so much. Was something wrong? But as much as she wanted him to stay and actually _talk _with her, she knew she had to get him to leave.

If anyone found out he was here... and he couldn't exactly have been inconspicuous, stomping up here in full weapons and armor. Yes, he needed to leave. He needed to leave, and she needed to speak to the doorman and anyone else who might have seen him come up.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't be with him. He was all wrong, and he'd never make her happy. He didn't even know what happiness was. He pretended. He laughed. He took what he could from life, but it would never be enough. For either of them.

"You need to go," she started, hating the tone of her voice, and how utterly unconvincing it sounded.

Closing the distance between them with unsteady steps, he leaned in close, bringing the smell of booze, and cigars, and sweat with him. His hand came down upon her hip, sliding around to her back. "You're so soft. So sweet..." He pulled her to him, not kissing her, but letting his forehead come down to rest against hers. "Wanted to stay away. Couldn't," he muttered.

Sally's chest felt tight, constricted. Her eyes fell shut and she felt herself lean into him, her hands sliding up to curve around the back of his neck, then up into his hair. He'd said flattering things to her before. He'd teased, made her laugh. But he'd never been this sweet, never seemed so vulnerable, so needy.

They stayed like that for a drawn out moment, his warm breath fanning her lips.

Then his other arm was there, hugging her to him. His lips came down, slowly touching hers, softly, like a whisper. She responded, pressing her lips into his and felt his arms tighten around her, lips hardening. The kiss deepened, and he groaned into her mouth, his tongue pushing its way inside to touch and taste.

Suddenly it was a race to see who could get him out of his clothing the fastest. They divested him of his firearms first, moving onto his shoulder armor, the elbow guards, gloves, chest plate, boots, and pants. His dark underclothing seemed to disappear in the shadows, leaving him bare, pressing up against her thinly clad body.

They made it to Sally's big brass bed before he started ripping at her expensive nightgown, nipping the skin of her throat and shoulders with sharp teeth.

Her hands ran down his body, tracing the sleek lines of his back and flanks, rubbing his lightly furred chest and belly. He had her nightclothes off now, squeezing her aching breasts in his rough skinned hands. His head bent, and he ran his tongue over her sharp pink nipples before sucking one hard point into his mouth, drawing on her with strong hard pulls.

He pushed a knee between her legs, making himself some room, and she felt him brush against her belly like a branding iron. Reaching down, she grasped him in small fingers, squeezing him tight. Her breast popped out of his mouth and he grunted, throbbing against her palm.

Bringing his own hand between them, he brushed a hard, thick finger through her pubic hair, sliding down and over her clit before pressing it inside her. Pushing deep, he caressed her inside, curling his finger until the tip bumped her at an angle. She whimpered and his mouth returned to hers, biting and sucking at her lips as his hand slid back, two fingers working their way inside her this time. She felt her body stretch for him as he widened the distance between his fingers, stroking her with quick, hard movements.

She couldn't think, couldn't move, could only sprawl beneath him, clutching his cock in her hands as he fucked her with his fingers.

The sensations built on top of each other until something inside of her broke apart, and she cried out against his mouth.

He started licking his fingers, then made a move to bring his head down between her legs. Remembering the last time they were together, Sally stopped him with a hand on his chest. Pushing slightly, she started kissing his big warm body. Her mouth tasted a path over his hard pectoral muscles, licking and nipping him with her teeth down, down, over his firm abs and belly, stopping to tease his bellybutton with a flick of her tongue. Reaching for his cock, she squeezed him in her fist, making his breath come out in a hiss. She'd done this before, instances that she didn't like to think about, with faceless men who'd pushed her into doing it. She'd never actually _wanted _to do this to a man before, never wanted to please one so much, and she'd never been so turned on by the idea of it, of taking this part of a man into her mouth, tasting him in the most intimate way. It brought a sense of power with it, adding to her excitement.

Ringing him in her fingers, she swiped at the head with a soft, rolling lick before capping him in her mouth. His breathing was loud, hands bunching in her hair as she sucked him in, taking him as deep as she could manage. He jerked in her grip as she started bobbing her head, mimicking the movements their bodies were going to make, caressing the length of him with lips and tongue. He moved with her, a few quick, shallow thrusts, before pulling her back and off him.

Coming up to his knees between her legs, Blake pulled her up against him, and set her astride his thighs. Sally bit his shoulders as he lifted her, bringing her down onto his dick with one strong push.

She felt stuffed and weak, and doubted her ability to move in this position, but all she had to do was feel as he grabbed her under her ribcage and began moving her up and down on him, controlling her body and their movements. His ass muscles clenched, pushing his hips up to meet her on every downward thrust, slamming them together in sweetly violent collisions.

The bed shook forcefully beneath them, and her hair seemed to be everywhere, tangled around them as his mouth moved over her throat, cheeks, and lips, kissing her wildly. Gasping, she tightened on him, feeling her orgasm wash over her body in waves. Feeling the crisis within her, Blake pushed her back against the pillows. Dark eyes flashing at her in the dim light, his body came down over hers, shoulders blocking out the room.

Moving in uneven, fast jerks, he hooked one hand behind her right knee and braced the other on her chest, just below her collarbone. He was heavy, and it hurt, making it difficult to breathe, but it turned her on even more, sharpening the pleasure as he worked toward his own climax.

He was hitting her deep, slamming against her womb, and as she felt herself go over again from the intense stimulation, he grasped her upper arms, pulling her mouth into his and kissing her deeply as he came, his seed splashing inside her in hot spurts.

Sally's toes curled and her eyes flew open as she realized that he hadn't pulled out this time. He was drunk, but she wasn't, and now things were getting dangerous.

Clutching her to him, he pulled out, his softening cock slipping wetly from between her legs as he moved to her side. Laying down on his back, he pulled her against him, placing a kiss on the top of her disheveled head.

Catching her breath, Sally searched for something to say. They really hadn't talked at all, about what they were doing or why he was even here, and for how long. Her reputation was important to her, and placing it and her emotional well-being in jeopardy was beyond stupid. She was too smart to be behaving like this, to be taking these risks.

And she was still in the dark in so many ways.

Realizing that he was asleep now, she snuggled into him, promising herself that she'd only give him an hour or two before she'd wake him up and demand some answers.

* * *

It seemed like only a matter of moments before he stirred against her. Pulling his arm out from under her, he left the bed, walking with heavy steps toward his discarded clothing.

Sally wanted to be angry with him, wanted to tell him not to come back, but in the end, she stood in her living room watching him, and clutching a bedsheet around her body, she said nothing, desperately holding back the desire to ask him to stay.

He was silent, too, and in no time at all, he was suited up and opening her door. He paused, and turning back, he gave her a quick, hard kiss.

Then he was gone.

* * *

_A/N: I never beta my work, so please speak up if you see something that looks wrong. I was going to edit the crap out of the naughty parts, like I did last chapter, but right now, I'm just too lazy to do it. Give me a holler if you think it's too offensive as it is, and I'll chop it down for you.  
No excuse for this, really, aside from the fact that I just sat down and quickly wrote it, because this is what I felt like writing. It doesn't advance the plot very much, but you'll forgive me one chapter of smut for smut's sake, right? I thought I'd make a drunkin' Eddie end up being a bit fluffy (since he seems to get so sentimental the 1 and only time we see him drunk in the novel). I know how I want this thing to end, but I'm making the steps along the way up as I go. Reviews always inspire me to continue faster, so I'd appreciate hearing from you!_


	3. Chapter 3

_1947_

It was Valentine's Day. Sally stood at her window, watching the rain leave trails down the double paned glass.

Today had been a great day. This morning, Hooded Justice had sent flowers up to her apartment.

She'd posed for Norman Rockwell again. Sally had worked with him before; she'd posed with a Hitler look-alike for a war bond poster five years earlier. Being asked to sit for him a second time had been an honor.

The Minutemen had held an early meeting to keep the evening free for dinner dates. When she'd arrived, Hollis had given her a heart-shaped box of chocolates.

Larry had taken her on a horse drawn carriage ride through Central Park. When he'd walked her to her door he'd given her a bottle of her favorite expensive perfume and a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Where was Blake? She knew he wasn't the type of man who'd write a love letter, but she'd still harbored a spark of hope that he'd try to see her, on this of all days.

Their relationship was based on mutual understanding. At least, Sally thought it was. These past months had been spent with business as usual; she continued to go out and be seen on the arm of Hooded Justice, fighting crime and doing modeling jobs, and Blake continued his government work, in and out of the country, off to heaven-knows-where, doing God-knows-what. And from time to time, he'd find her; here, or out on patrol, or leaving a restaurant alone.

But he wasn't really ever around when she needed him to be.

Hating herself for it, Sally stayed up, looking down on the darkened streets, into the early hours. Hoping that he'd come. And praying that he wouldn't.

* * *

"How's everyone been?" Nelson Gardner's tenor rose above the din of voices, gaining the attention of everyone around the large meeting room table. The mahogany was polished to such a shine, you could see all in attendance reflected there. He sat at the head, Hooded Justice sat to his right, followed by Sally. Nite Owl, Mothman, and Dollar Bill sat opposite.

Sally flashed smiles at Byron and Bill. They were both so friendly and polite. It was kind of nice being the only girl. They all treated her like such a lady, although even the way she dressed suggested that this was far from the truth.

Most of these meetings were spent catching up, with just a small amount of time set aside to plan manoeuvres and next week's meeting. Talk this week was all about a shipment of Heroin, and trying to pin down who was involved. They were all hoping to connect this one to Moloch, regardless of whoever else happened to be in charge.

After everyone had greeted Nelson, he continued, "I hear that Edward Blake is in town."

"Pshhh," Hooded Justice's deep timbered voice turned the conversation away from Nelly's polite tones. "I, for one, like it better when he's out of the country. It's no secret that everyone in this room is glad he isn't a part of the group anymore." This statement was met with nods all around.

Sally was at a loss. Her silence might have been the most telling, for she was generally the most outspoken of all of them, and not so long ago, this would have been just the opening she'd needed to voice her own thoughts on the matter. She'd always wanted him back with the Minutemen. He'd been the silliest of them all, hiding his inner demons behind a mask of lighthearted indifference. Now that she found herself tangled up in some kind of forbidden relationship with him, she questioned not only her judgement, but also her ability to speak her opinion in an intelligent, if not eloquent manner.

"Well, if we should run into him while in costume, let's all be sure to remember our professional courtesy." Nelson admonished. "We shouldn't turn away help on this case. Even from someone like him."

_Even from someone like him. _The sentence lay thick and heavy over Sally.

Talk turned to tonight, and as Sally sat looking down at her folded hands on the tabletop with their brightly polished nails, it was decided that they would break into pairs, double up for tonight's assignments. Mothman and Dollar Bill would question some of the kids downtown, see if they'd heard anything about new product. Any information they could find on the streets would help get a handle on where the dealers were operating. Nelson and H.J. were going to shakedown some of their buyers; they weren't the most reputable of sources, but they were into things deep enough that they usually had more information on who was in the know. Sally and Hollis were assigned the shipyard. They were to speak to the harbor master's son; an oily punk by the name of Frankie. They'd been tipped off by one of the small time dealers that Frankie was a possible go-between for the drug's foreign and domestic counterparts. He was reputed to be ruthless and tight lipped, but to have a soft spot for pretty dames. They were hoping that Sally would be able to cut a deal with him, or at the very least, use her whiles to find out who was in charge.

The room began to empty; the masked vigilantees all saying their goodbyes and heading off in seperate directions.

So lost in thought was she, that Sally didn't notice that everyone had left until Hollis cleared his throat beside her.

"You, ah, ready to head out, Sally?"

Snapping out of her daze, Sally stood up from her chair. She looked up into his kind eyes and gave him a brilliant smile. She watched the tops of his cheekbones pinken. He was really a handsome man, and the way he responded to her was adorable.

She promised herself that she wouldn't let thoughts of Blake ruin another evening. She was in great company, and off to do what she did best.

* * *

"So Carl's this really cool chap down at the station. All the other guys really look up to him. I've always liked him, myself; he's got a really witty way about him, and seems really tough, too. Well, one day, Carl and I were getting donuts in this little joint downtown, when who should show up, but Captain Axis! Fully masked and everything. Who knows what he was doing in such a dive, but you should have seen Carl. He was scared to _death _of this guy. Told me later that he nearly lost his breakfast, he was so nervous."

They'd arrived at the large warehouse where they'd been told they could find Frankie. Sally was having a good time listening to Hollis's stories. Being alone with him felt almost like a date; he was so sweet, always rushing to hold open doors for her. And somehow, Hollis could run around barelegged and still look manly.

It was a crisp, clear night in the city; one of those nights that made you feel as if anything were possible.

"I had to practically carry Carl back to the station. He turned out to be completely useless; scared shitless that Captain Axis was going to rob the place or something." Hollis's laugh was infectious, so Sally couldn't help but laugh along with him.

"Then there was the time that I nearly got myself caught. I stopped a mugging one night, and the victim was none other than my Chief's daughter. She looked at me with such big stars in her eyes, the same crazy stars she wears whenever I come over for supper, that I was positive that's she'd recognized me. Turns out that she's just boy crazy, and she flashes those baby blues at every man she takes a fancy to."

They fell silent abruptly as they caught sight of the building's kicked-in door. Hollis held a gloved finger to his lips, indicating that they should remain silent, and led the way inside of the large structure.

They walked into a darkened office with glass windows that overlooked a large storeroom filled with boxes and shipping containers. Almost immediately, they could hear shouting and the sounds of a scuffle from inside.

"Tell me who it is, you worthless bastard. You think you can get away with all this? You think I'm just gonna _let_ you?"

_Thunk._

"Gah! Fuck you, mask! Why should I tell _you _anything?"

Before they'd even gotten sight of the room's occupants, Sally felt her stomach sink as she recognized one of the men's gruff voices.

_Thunk._

"You'd better."

_Thunk._

This threat was met with silence. Sally and Hollis came upon the pair of men just in time to witness the Comedian's next words.

"Last chance."

_Thunk._

He was holding a well dressed man up by his shirt collar, and the thunks they'd been hearing appeared to have come from the man's head, which was being repeatedly slammed into the faded brown bricks that made up the wall behind him.

"I ain't telling you nothin'!" The man smirked, and as he spoke, realization set in upon Sally. _This was Frankie!_

"Then what good are you," Blake said flatly. There was a sickening crunch, and Hollis and Sally could only look on in horror as Blake slammed the other man's head into the wall one more time, effectively caving in the back of his skull.

Blood flooded out of Frankie's mouth as his last breath escaped him on a bubbling gasp.

"Jesus, Eddie, you've killed him!" Sally yelled, rushing forward.

Blake let the body fall. Sparing the two of them a quick glance, he headed back in the direction of the front office.

She and Hollis reached Frankie at the same time. He searched the body for a pulse then shook his head curtly at Sally.

Moving quickly, Sally entered the office, glaring accusingly at Blake.

"You heard 'im. Said he wouldn't talk. If you're here then you've gotta know all the bad shit he was into." Blake said as he riffled through the room's desk and file cabinets.

"But he was the link, dammit. Without him, we're back to square one," Hollis said as he stepped up beside Sally. His voice was thick with disgust, and grabbing Sally's arm, he started to lead her back and away from Blake. It was true that there was no love lost between the two men, but somehow Sally's mind was able to register Blake's narrowed eyes on the hand that Hollis had laid on her gloveless arm.

Apparently giving up his search, Blake turned and left the building.

Following close behind, Sally felt her cheeks burn.

What a mess.

Oblivious to the crowd that had begun to form outside, Sally lost it. "God, Eddie, do you realize what you've done? Do you even care?" She was beginning to feel hysterical. Blake turned and met her gaze. His confusion and indifference was obvious, which only made her angrier.

Letting her emotions play out across her face, and making sure Blake saw it, she turned to Hollis. "I need to... let's just go," she said. "We can call the cops and let them sort this out." She was mad and upset, and she just wanted to get away.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go," Hollis said, looking at the people that were standing nearby, watching everything. He sounded as frustrated as she was. He had the mind of a cop, but he knew as well as she did that the law couldn't touch Blake.

They left him there, and a few streets over, Hollis was able to get them a cab.

Sally shut her eyes. Resisting the urge to lean on Hollis, she let her head rest back against the seat. They arrived at her building in no time. Sitting up, she turned to Hollis, who gave her a sad smile.

"So, um, you sure you don't want to go have a drink with me? You know, unwind?"

Looking up into his eager face, Sally realized that a drink was probably just what she needed. Tonight had been really fun until Blake had come along and messed up everything. Or so she told herself.

"Actually, that sounds fantastic," she said, returning his happy smile.

* * *

She was tipsy, and she knew it. She'd drank more than she usually did, but the more that she'd drank, the more fun that she'd had. Hollis was a handsome man, and as he'd walk her safely to her door, she'd been tempted to see what it would be like to kiss him. Would it thrill her down to her toes? Or leave her feeling empty?

As silly as the alcohol had made her, she was still smart enough to know that now wasn't the time to lead her good friend on. She needed to get her head sorted out first.

Giggling a little at herself as she stumbled over the threshold, she closed and locked her door, pulling at her single black glove. Getting out of her costume in this state was going to be a challenge, but she'd have to try. No way was she going to sleep in her bustier. She giggled again at the thought of calling Larry over here to help. The sight of her bare flesh would probably make him faint.

She bumped into an end table, nearly sending her delicate Tiffany lamp crashing to the floor. Reaching up with slender fingers, she pulled the chain, flooding this corner of the room with a soft glowing light.

She jumped as she noticed the black boots on the floor before her sofa, following them up to leather clad legs.

"Where have you been? Out with Owl?" His big body dwarfed the small piece of furniture. He was smoking a cigar, and the tip glowed red as he took a drag.

Sighing in exasperation, Sally propped a hand on her hip. "What are you doing here, Eddie? And since when have you ever cared who I have drinks with? We've never made any promises to each other. Hell, we never talk at all, really." She was too tired, and weary of being just a welcoming set of arms.

Setting his cigar down in the pink marble ashtray she kept on her coffee table, he leaned forward, propping his hands on his knees. "You really think Owl can give you what you need?"

His jealousy wasn't sweet or flattering, it was making her crazy. "Jesus, do you even listen when I talk? This isn't about him at all. Why the hell would you think it's okay to come here, tonight, and ask me where I've been? You do whatever the hell you want. Even if it messes everything up."

He stood, and approached with heavy steps. Reaching out, he wrapped his right arm around her, pulling her against him in a hug. Suddenly, Sally felt like crying. Why did he have to be the way he was? And could she love him if he was any other way?

She felt tears begin to dampen her cheeks. She wanted to yell at him, tell him to stay the hell away. But she couldn't.

He traced light, soothing kisses down the side of her face. His hands came up to brush away the pain.

She wanted to talk to him. Really talk. Ask him personal things, like where he came from. Why had he been alone from such a young age? She wanted to tell him about herself, things she'd never told anybody. Tell him about running away from her abusive father, and how Larry had found her working as a burlesque dancer.

What was his favorite color? It was probably black or red. The colors of pain and suffering.

Somehow their bodies always ended up doing the talking.

Soft, nibbling kisses soon turned bold and devouring as she clung to him and his familiar strength.

He delt with her costume the way he always did; with a quiet reverence, worshiping every inch of bared skin with lips and tongue.

The need she felt, just to have him here against her, his body warming hers, overcame everything else. Soon they were tangled up on her big brass bed, and he was strong and selfish; almost as desperate as he'd been the very first time. Perhaps he felt the conflict within her. He knew, as she did, that their days were numbered.

* * *

Blake blinked the sleep out of his eyes and squinted into the light of the morning sun coming in through frothy drapes. He noticed immediately that Sally wasn't in the bed beside him. Stretching, he yawned. Maybe Sal would be up for a bit of morning...

His brows drew together at the sound of harsh voices in the next room.

"Goddammit, Sally! Do you think I'm going to let this happen? I'm not grotesquely stupid, you know. I know you've been seeing him. Do you have any idea what a nightmare this would be if word got out?"

"Yes, yes, I know." She sounded tired, like a child resigned to sit and listen to a lecture that they knew they deserved.

"Why, for chrissakes? Do you think he gives a damn about you? He's treating you like... He's made you a whore, you know. A whore. You're not his girlfriend, or his lover. He'll never marry you.

"His whore; that's all you're ever going to be."

This last statement had Blake jumping up from the bed. The door hit the wall with a bang as he rushed Larry, still naked. His fist sank into the older man's face, and it felt good. So good that he had to do it again. And again. He punched and punched until the man was unconscious, a pale, bloody mess under his hands, and Sally's screams pierced the dark haze of his mind.

"Stop! Stop it, Eddie! Oh, God!"

He dropped the beaten man, letting him fall to the ground with a thud.

Tears running down her face, Sally fell to her knees beside him.

Watching her smooth some of the blood off of the fallen man's face, Blake reached out to her.

She shrank away. "Just, just leave. Go."

He gave her a long look, then gathering up his discarded armor, he did.

* * *

_A/N: What do you think, guys? Should I continue this?  
As you can probably tell, this is the beginning of the end for our OTP. :( Hell, I wish they could have a happy ending, but the tragic aspect of their relationship is its biggest appeal.  
I'm trying to grow as a writer, and a big part of that is less porn and more story. Feel free to speak up if the lack of naughty bits kind of put you off this, though. Thanks to my 1st 2 chapters, I'm sure that pr0n is what some of you were expecting here. I'd like to think that I can put a little mystery in at this point, but again, feedback is key. It'd be great to hear from some of you about what works and what doesn't.  
As always, I never beta my work, so please give me a holler if you notice something that looks wrong._


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